Mad World OutTakes
by Jean815
Summary: Scenes that don't quite fit into 'Mad World', my Faberry fic, but are relevant to it.


**Title:** Sober  
**Fandom:** Glee  
**Genre:** Family, Angst.  
**Status:** Complete  
**Pairing:** None  
**Rating:** T, PG-13. Lots of angst and alcoholism, and one bitch-slap.  
**Words:** 3,558  
**Spoilers:** Set before the Pilot. Spoilers for 'Mad World' are just up to Chapter 5.

**Note:** Sort of spin-off/out-take of my other fic 'Mad World'. In Chapter 5 in Mad World, Quinn reminisces about her 8th birthday party. This is set sort of between Chapter 5 and 6. You don't need to read that fic to understand this one nor read this one to understand that one. Title is Sober, by Pink.

**Summary:** The Fabray's weren't always depressed and fake. Once upon a time, they were as happy as any other normal family. They celebrated birthdays; they went to theme parks; they threw flour and eggs at each other. Then it all went to heck.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Glee, but I do own my plot. Embracing originality is like embracing life. Without one, there is none of the other.

* * *

The morning of April 30th, 2001 was a beautiful one. The sun shone, but it was briskly cool. It was a great day to be out. But in second-floor bedroom of the Fabray residence, Quinn Fabray hunkered down under her sheets and slept. She really should have been up by then, because it was her 8th birthday, and they were going to the theme park, but she had been so excited the night before she hadn't been able to sleep. Now, she was enjoying the warmth under her sheets and just couldn't bring herself to get up. The floor was always really cold in the mornings.

A soft knock on her bedroom door made her turn quickly in bed so that her back was facing the door. She closed her eyes tight and buried her face in her huge teddy bear, Mr. Beary's stomach. It had been given to her last night as an early birthday present. It was almost as big as her, soft and cuddly and had a cute hat. Quinn loved it.

Quinn heard the soft creak of the door and the sound of her mother's soft footsteps across the cold floor. "Quinny baby? Are you awake?" Judy Fabray put a hand on her daughter's shoulder, gently rocking her.

Quinn pretended to be asleep and ignored her mother, then suddenly turned around and squealed, "Boo!" Her mother fake-screamed and grabbed Quinn around her waist and started tickling her. Quinn gasped with laughter and tried to pull away, but she was small and her mother's fingers were really ticklish and she was just laughing too much.

Soon enough, Judy stopped tickling her daughter and hugged her close. "Happy birthday, Quinn." She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Go get changed. We have to leave in 20 minutes or we won't be able to get on all the rides, okay?"

Quinn nodded so fast her mother became a blur in front of her. She leapt out of her bed while her mother laughed and squealed when her toes touched the cold floor. She grabbed the clothes she had picked out the night before and ran into the bathroom, not missing her mother's quick "Remember to brush your teeth!" She wouldn't forget. She didn't want stinky breath on her birthday!

In just over 10 minutes, Quinn had brushed her teeth, washed her face and dressed in her favourite red T-shirt with Elmo's face on it with a pair of black jeans. She didn't want to wear a skirt in case it flew around when she was on the roller coaster. She combed her hair and ran down the stairs.

Russell Fabray stood at the kitchen table, angrily speaking into a telephone. Quinn wanted to give him a hug, but she knew when not to disturb him. Her mother poured three glasses of juice out for them: orange for Quinn, apple for her husband and herself. Judy put a green present on the other side of room, just in case any of them accidentally knocked their glasses over. Quinn had to wait until evening to open that particular present. It was a family tradition, one that Quinn always got over-excited for.

Snapping his phone shut, Russell turned to his wife and frowned. "I have to go in. There's been a screw-up and _I'm_ the only one who can fix it. I don't know how long it's going to take, but I suspect I'm going to be there the entire day. I'll call if I can't make it back for dinner."

Judy sighed. She was used to her husband working very long hours, but, "Today is Quinn's birthday, Russell. Can no one else do your job?" He was a senior partner at a law firm, which should have meant he could set his own hours and give more work to his underlings, but Russell Fabray was a workaholic. Instead of embracing his family and letting back on his job a little after being promoted, he had instead worked even harder. Judy knew that telling him to take time off work was like telling him to stop breathing.

"No,' Russell snapped, "It would seem that no one else _can._ She'll have other birthdays, but if I don't fix this-" He walked into the hallway to find his briefcase while he spoke, Judy trailing behind him, "The company's going to go to shit. Someone screwed up. Badly. Very damned badly." He only swore when he was away from his daughter's ears.

Judy nodded and stared at the ground. "She was just looking forward so much to going out today. And she'll only have an eighth birthday _once,_ Russell."

Her husband rooted through his briefcase and slammed it shut. He glared at her. "You think I don't know that? She spent the entire night last night talking about it. _I know, Judy_. But she'll understand. She'll thank me for doing this when she's older. I have to go."

"You know, I think she'd thank you if you got a less demanding job and just spent a little more time with her," Judy said softly. Russell slammed his hand into the wall, looking angry.

"Everything I do, I do for _us._ I've worked hard for this job for _us_ so that we can have comfortable _lives. _For _all_ of us. You'd think she'd learn to appreciate that over some goddamned theme park," Russell seethed before opening the front door.

From behind Judy, Quinn softly called out, "Daddy?"

Russell blanched. He turned and forced a smile. "Happy birthday, Quinn. Look, Daddy has to go to work, okay? There's an emergency. I'll be back tonight." Then he disappeared out the door, which closed with a very final sort of '_thump'. _The sound of his car was loud and angry in her ears. It struck Judy that Russell hadn't even hugged his daughter goodbye.

Judy took a very deep breath and whispered so quietly she couldn't hear herself, "No, it's not okay." Then she turned to her daughter and smiled brightly, trying to dissuade the tears that began to form in her daughter's eyes. She quickly picked her daughter up and hugged her tightly, walking back to the.

She put her daughter on the chair and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "Listen, Quinny baby, we won't be able to go to the theme park today. Your daddy had an emergency at work and he had to go. You know he's very important, right? The people at the company needed him. He took the car with him and it's too far to walk. But we'll do other things, so don't worry, okay?" Judy told her daughter, feeling her heart break at her daughter's expression.

Quinn hunched over and staring blankly at the table. "Quinn?" Judy took her daughter's small hand in her own. "We can go to the theme park some other day, alright, baby?" Quinn shook her head glumly. "I don't wanna go," she said sadly. "I just wanted to go with daddy. He's always not around." She looked up at her mother sadly.

Judy felt her heart clench tightly and a quick flash of anger at her husband. She squeezed Quinn's hand gently. "Daddy's busy, honey. But we'll celebrate with him tonight, okay? He's just got a really tough job." Quinn nodded and rubbed her eyes, not letting her tears out. "Okay."

"Why don't we bake something? I have lots of ingredients around," Judy suggested, standing up and walking to the kitchen cupboard. Judy placed a few bags of flour, several slabs of butter, a packet of chocolate chips, baking soda, peanut butter, sugar, eggs and other goodies on the kitchen table. She also started pulling out trays and shapes from drawers Quinn hadn't even known existed.

An hour later, they were covered in flour and egg yolk. A small 'accident' involving flour had resulted in Quinn being covered in it. She grabbed an egg in each hand and cracked them above her mother's head while she had been busy laughing. Her mother gaped and smirked wickedly before throwing more flour at Quinn. Judy winked at Quinn before dumping a handful of cocoa powder on Quinn's head.

After a delightful food (ingredient?) fight that ended in surrender from Judy, they started to actually bake things. It didn't take too long to make Judy's legendary Brownie Cheesecake (i), and Quinn had a lot of fun making random shapes out of her cookies. Even if the pom-pom she made resembled an exploding star much more than a pom-pom. Judy swore it looked like a pom-pom, though, which made Quinn beam.

The two of them stood at the doorway to the kitchen and stared at it. "Do we have to clean it up, mommy?" Quinn whined.

Judy smirked. "No, we don't. _You _do." Quinn gaped and her eyes went wide. She immediately began to stamp her feet and make a small fuss. Judy couldn't help bursting into laughter when her daughter's small feet kicked up the flour on the floor and covering Quinn in a cloud of flour.

"I was joking, Quinn," Judy ruffled her daughter's hair affectionately. "C'mon, let's go out to the swings," she suggested while she put the cake and cookies away. "We'll just let daddy clean this up when he gets back, okay?" she whispered conspiratorially to Quinn. Bitterly and on the inside, she wondered what Russell _would_ do if he came back and saw the mess in the kitchen. Rant about how they had wasted so many ingredients, most likely.

Judy sighed and perked up a little as her daughter, her little bit of sunshine and rainbows, nodded enthusiastically about leaving the kitchen as it was for her father to see. Quinn tugged on her mother's hand and pulled her out the door to the swings.

Leaning against the swings and pulling her daughter up to sit on her lap, Judy felt more at peace with the world than she had in a while. With her feet barely skimming the ground, they swung back and forth slowly. Quinn just leaned against her mother with her eyes closed, a smile on her face. Who cared about a dumb theme park, anyway? Time passed like that, with Judy hugging Quinn gently from behind and Quinn snuggling into her mother's embrace.

Lost in their own thoughts, a quick, bright flash brought Judy back to the present. She flinched and turned toward where the flash had come from. Standing a couple of feet away from them at the fence was their neighbour, Mr. Achele (ii). He held a professional camera that looked vaguely like a Canon in his hands. He smiled and waved before walking toward them.

"Hello Judy, Quinn,' he grinned, almost ruffling Quinn's hair before noticing the mass of flour on it. He smirked at Judy, who sported a similar hairstyle. "I hope you beautiful girls don't mind me taking that photo. It was just too perfect. I could delete it if you want, but I'm taking candid photos for a campaign. It's to promote familial ties and stuff like that. I'm one of many photographers, but that was really just a _perfect _picture. I couldn't help myself. They'll probably accuse me of using models instead of following the 'candid' theme.' he explained, laughing slightly.

Quinn giggled at being called a beautiful girl, while Judy just smiled. "No, we don't mind, do we, Quinny baby?" Quinn shook her head shyly. "Do you mind giving us a copy of the photograph, though?" Judy asked.

Mr. Achele nodded. "Sure. I'll get you a copy of the photograph. It really is a lovely photo."

"Thank you, Mr. Achele,' Quinn said brightly. Judy seconded her daughter's comment. He nodded and with another wave, he left. The two of them sat there for a while longer, then they noticed Russell's car coming up the road.

For a moment, Judy froze, because she was covered in flour and egg yolk, and Quinn was as well. Russell did not appreciate messiness, but Quinn was smiling and waving at the car, waiting for her father. Judy sighed on the inside and prayed that Russell wouldn't overreact.

They stood at the doorstep as Russell exited his car, a moody look on his face. He grabbed his briefcase and almost stormed towards them. Quinn blanched and cowered behind her mother's leg. "Hi daddy," she mumbled softly. "Russell,' Judy greeted.

Russell merely nodded briskly at them, barely sparing them a glance, before stalking into his house. They heard a thud as he put his briefcase on the table hard. "Mommy?" Quinn sounded nervous. Judy nudged her daughter. "Just go in, honey."

They followed Russell into the kitchen. He stopped just before he entered it and surveyed the scene in front of him. A gasp of disbelief, a soft 'What on earth...' and the sound of angry breathing made Judy's heart sink. "We made cookies and a cake,' she said softly.

"Really, Judy? Cookies and a cake? You're sure? Because this sure doesn't look like cookies and a cake. This looks more like a complete disaster of a kitchen,' he growled. "Quinn!' she flinched. 'Go to your room."

Quinn looked torn between staying with her mother and getting away from her father. Judy just nodded at her, but she kept standing there until her father said, "I said go to your room. Now." His voice was cold and harsh. Quinn fled as quickly as she could up the stairs.

As soon as she was gone, Russell burst into anger. "What the hell is this? I go out to work to get us a good, comfortable home. I had to fire two _idiots_ who couldn't do a simple job right and almost ended up _ruining _the company! I spent the entire day fixing that one mistake, and this is what I have to come back to? I spent the _entire_ day kissing ass and polishing shoes, and when I come home my house is a complete _pig sty_?" Russell sounded stressed and as though he wanted the neighbours to be able to hear him; he was that loud.

Judy flinched, looking very much like her daughter just a minute ago. "We were just having fun, Russell. It's her birthday, you know? And we just let loose and...' she gestured weakly at the kitchen.

Russell slammed his hand down on the counter. "I don't care,' he hissed, 'I don't care if it's her birthday, or your birthday, or the Pope's birthday. My daughter does _not_ act like a hooligan. How could you let her do this? _You're_ supposed to provide a good example for her. You're the adult here, Judy, act like it,' he snapped. "Now clean this damned kitchen up." With that, he stalked sullenly out of the kitchen.

Judy collapsed against the wall, tears pooling in her eyes. She rubbed them away with the palm of her hand, which she then put over her heart. It was racing. After a few deep breaths, she picked up the nearest empty packet of flour and threw it in the dustbin. She collected the empty boxes and threw those away as well. It was strange, but for every bit of mess she cleaned up, every stain she wiped away, it was as though she was wiping the memory of that day away.

By the time she was done, the sun had begun to set. She stood at the sink and rinsed her hands, watching the sun set outside the window. She reacted instinctively and slammed the tap shut when her husband's clipped voice suddenly sounded from behind her. She turned around, a hand firmly placed over her thumping heart. She wondered how her husband managed to scare her time and time again.

Russell held a duffel bag in his hand and a blank look on his face. He was still wearing his suit. "I'm going back to the office. I doubt I'll be back early. Don't bother waiting up for me." Judy furrowed her eyebrows and nodded slowly. "Do you, do you want to take something with you for dinner?" she croaked. Her throat was dry.

Sarcastically, Russell said, "And what would I take, hmm? Flour? Perhaps if you hadn't been too busy _cleaning _the kitchen, you would have been able to actually _cook_ something in it, yes?"

Judy cast her gaze onto the floor, her nails pressing tightly into her palms. She blinked back tears and swallowed hard. Russell scoffed. "Don't bother yourself, Judy. I understand that throwing flour around and having _fun_ is so much more important than making meals for your husband and child,' he sneered.

A loud smack echoed around the kitchen. Judy gaped and stared at her husband. There was a red mark spreading quickly on his left cheek. It looked suspiciously like her hand. She glanced at her right hand. It was red as well and stung slightly. She swallowed again and fearfully turned back to her husband, backing into the sink.

A throbbing vein appeared in Russell's forehead, and his hand came up to gingerly touch his cheek. His eyes darkened and a harsh scowl appeared on his face. "You hit me,' he said quietly. 'You hit me."

"I didn't... I... I didn't..." Judy didn't know what to say. She felt surprised that she didn't feel any regret at hitting him. She did feel nervous at what he would do though. She had never had Russell pegged as someone who would hit a woman, but she hadn't thought he would choose work over his daughter when she had married him 18 years ago, either. She winced when his hand came down from his face, but it was only to stuff angrily into his pocket. He glared at Judy one last time, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. She heard the loud slam of the front door, and the revving of his car.

* * *

When Quinn timidly walked into the kitchen 2 minutes later, she would see her mother shaking uncontrollably on the ground, her forehead pressed firmly against her knees. She would awkwardly hug the taller woman and ask her mother what was wrong, but Judy wouldn't answer. 10 minutes after Russell had so dramatically stormed out of the house, and 8 minutes after her daughter tried to comfort her, Judy would make a light dinner of mac and cheese. Russell wouldn't have approved at all, but he wasn't there now, was he?

2 hours after dinner, 2 hours of acting normal in front of her daughter later, Judy would tuck her daughter into bed and kiss her goodnight. She would ask her daughter whether she liked the present she had opened, the octopus stuffed toy that lay proudly next to her bear, and her daughter would smile and nod happily. She would gently close the door and go back and stare at the kitchen.

10 minutes after Judy had tucked Quinn into bed, she herself would tuck into the plentiful supply of Jack Daniels they had. She would almost pray for forgiveness first, but then she shrugged. She almost used a glass, but it was easier to just drink from the bottle.

2 hours after Judy had tucked Quinn into bed, she would be in her own bed, sobbing her eyes out. She would muffle her sobs as best as she could. Judy Fabray would not sleep that night, because the spot in her bed next to her was cold and empty.

The next night, Judy Fabray would do it all over again, because it occurred to her that alcohol blurred details marvellously well. With alcohol, she forgot the argument she had had with her husband. She forgot the way her palm tingled with accomplishment after she had slapped him. She forgot the way he had looked at her with complete disgust. She would forget the way her heart shattered into a million pieces when he had looked at her like that.

2 weeks later, she would still be doing the same thing, because Mr. Achele would have given her the photo in a beautiful frame. She would drink while staring at the increasingly blurry photo and be found out by her husband, who would gently take the bottle from her and start drinking from it himself. He would stare at her, and she would stare right back. They would nod at each other, not quite sure what the nod meant, but knowing what they each wanted to do.

They would drink and drink and drink until their livers failed, because it was easier than admitting neither loved the other anymore. It was easier than admitting they didn't know why, and it was easier than putting on a front for Quinn to see. So they drank.

And 8 years later, they would look back and wonder how they had gone from being a happy, loving family to a bunch of fake, depressed beings. They would wonder what would have happened if they had talked instead of drank, but it was too late, they would never know.

Russell Fabray would wonder whether choosing his daughter over his job would have changed anything.

Judy Fabray would wonder whether not slapping her husband would have changed anything.

Quinn Fabray would wonder whether her parents would still have loved each other had she never been born.

But they would never know.

* * *

A little darker than what I meant to write, especially when starting with the young, uber cute Quinn Fabray, but it needed to happen. Surprisingly hard to write.

Title: Sober, comes from Pink's song. A little ironic, considering. The lyrics don't really fit this story, but I feel that the feeling behind it does.

30th April, Mr Beary, octopus = all Dianna Agron.

(i) momsw hothink [dot] com/chees ecake-re cipes/browni e-cheesecake- - Because I don't actually know how to bake a thing.

(ii) I swear to god, I couldn't resist putting that in. I'm currently a little high off all the Achele goodness going around. Damn glee tour. Want to bet they jump each other on the last night? =P

Also, I have a blue Cookie Monster T-shirt. Sue me. That was my inspiration for Quinn t-shirt. Although comparing myself with an 8 year old is a really bad idea..

Review, because I need to know whether I should actually continue making out-takes.


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